The Middle
by nickelplated
Summary: A quick look into how Violet occupies the middle of things, namely the middle of the bed and the middle of Klaus's heart. Based on a song by Katie Buchanan. Violet/Klaus!


_She likes the middle of the bed_.

He tries not to expect her to come to him, tries not to hope she will, but the thrill that went through Klaus's body when he woke to find her in his bed was undeniable. Even though he was grown now, with a large bed all to himself for years, it was long ingrained in him to sleep on the right side of the bed, because back when had to share with her, Violet had preferred the left. That's what she insisted anyway, where she would at least start out, but he would invariably wake to find his sister in the middle of the bed, sprawled like a young child, or curled up with her knees pressed into his back. Violet was asleep now, and even though the apartment was dark, he could see the exhaustion that ringed her eyes. She had already undressed and wore only a black undershirt and panties and laid only partly covered by the blanket, obviously too tired to even get under the covers. She didn't usually come to his place to sleep. No, they never spent their nights together sleeping, so he was surprised to see her so still, breaths deep and even. He was relieved to have sent Fiona on her way earlier. It was hard thinking up excuses to never let her spend the night, but he stuck to his own rule because he never knew when Violet would need him.

He wondered at her tiredness and as much as he longed to have her he thought to just let her sleep, but very soon he watched as her peaceful expression turned to one of fear. Her forehead crinkled, eyebrows knitting together in a familiar expression of worry, and incomprehensible words spilled from her mouth. But only when her hand began to scrabble at the sheets did he wake her from her nightmare with a gentle stroke of fingers to cheek.

She woke immediately, grabbing his wrist and holding it tightly before she became fully aware of where she was. "Klaus," she sighed, smiling, the dream instantly dissipating. "Hey," she said, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey, yourself," he answered quietly. "Where are you coming from and why does your hair smell like smoke?" he asked, dreading her answer. The smell of smoke always made his stomach hurt. The familiar smoky smells that normal people loved made him sick, even the smell left on his jacket after a friendly campfire, or the smell of burning leaves in the autumn.

She shook her head, began to answer, but her voice wouldn't come and her eyes filled with tears. She took a long moment to remember the awful events of the night, staring into his face though her gaze was turned inward to her own thoughts. "It was awful," she said finally. "We worked for hours to put out that fire, but…there were no survivors." She'd come because she knew he would understand, could empathize with her, but he inwardly hated the VFD that she so loved. It had killed his parents, had almost killed him and his sisters so many times, yet she served faithfully. She surprised him a little by saying, rather forcefully, rather like she was beginning to see the futility in thinking that a noble world was achievable, "I'd rather not talk about it." Well, she didn't usually come to his place to chat, anyway. She was well versed in his opinions on such matters as putting out fires.

He nodded and brushed Violet's long hair off her neck and shoulder to lay down her back, letting his fingers trail along her shoulder blade, placing pressure there, inviting her to scoot into his embrace, which she gratefully did. She pressed several soft pecks to his lips, familiar. "I've missed you," she whispered against his mouth. She wasted no time in kissing him then, spreading her fingers over the back of his skull, scratching lightly at his scalp and he quickly deepened the kiss. This was not their first kiss. Klaus had lost track of how many times he'd kissed her like this, hundreds, maybe thousands. They knew each other intimately and this was a well rehearsed dance.

Klaus pulled her over him as he laid back against his pillow again, tugging her shirt off over her head and arms as he did so. He loved the way her skin felt under his palms, the dip in her spine and the roundness of her bottom as he also pulled off her panties. He could never get used to how other women's bodies felt. His hands were always surprised and disappointed not to find Violet there with him, to not feel her soft round thighs, or the interlacing of her fingers in his. His mouth would miss her taste and the way her tongue met his, gentle and soft and sweet.

He maneuvered Violet so that she straddled his waist, pulling at her knees that were bent on either side of him, running his hands over her calves and thighs, over her sides and her breasts, and still he kissed her.

She groaned in frustration to find that he still had his boxer shorts on and they both laughed as he tried to take them off with her over top of him, reaching around and over her, bouncing his hips and trying to find enough purchase on the sheets with his feet to lift himself up so that he could pull the offending garment down.

Once naked, Klaus turned serious again, pulling her close to him, chest to chest and stomach to stomach, pushing her hair behind her ear. Violet, too, belonged to someone else now, but old habits are hard to break. "Does he know you're here?"

Quigley. Truly, one of his best friends in the whole world. It was a shame that they both had to be in love with the same woman. "Klaus," Violet said in a tone that meant she didn't want to talk about that, either. He only raised his eyebrows at her, expecting an answer. "I told him I was coming to see you."

"Do you think he suspects?"

"Honestly, Klaus…I don't know," Violet heaved a heavy sigh. "Would it make a difference if he did?"

Klaus didn't have an answer to that. He knew that he could never have Violet the way that Quigley could. Klaus longed to be in Quigley's place, wished to have the kind of relationship where he could profess his love for Violet in public, where he could hold her hand on the street as they walked, or kiss her at the movies. He wanted Violet to warm his bed every night, wanted to wake up holding her and know they had nowhere better to be that morning but in each other's arms. This was all fanciful thinking on his part. It was something he could never have with Violet, his sister, but that didn't lessen the love that Klaus felt for her. On the other hand he knew what he did have with Violet was as real and unconditional as it was limited and secret. No, it wasn't fair to the others that they became involved with, but a necessary evil.

"Let's not think about any of it," she said earnestly. "I want you to make me forget the whole world for just a little while." Violet kissed him so tenderly that his worry and longing burgeoned into such a heavy weight on his chest that, for a minute, he couldn't breathe, but then she rolled her hips back and took him fully inside her body. "I only want you." The sensation made him inhale, long and deep, and suddenly he could breathe again. "I love you," she reminded him and for a little while she was his entire world.

When he woke much later, early morning sun peeked through the windows, making him squint. Klaus instinctively reached for Violet, but she was gone. He scrubbed his palms over his face and into his messy, bedhead hair, and couldn't help but wonder when she'd be back. In the meantime, he would live his life. He would shower, go to work, maybe take Fiona out to dinner and a movie, but in reality thoughts of Violet inhabited the middle of his brain. No matter how he occupied himself with other things and thoughts, no matter how much time passed, he could never escape his feelings for her. Her life was inextricably wound up with his, bound by mutual need, trust and love. It would never change, nor did he even want it to.

_She likes the middle of my head,_

_Past all the walls that I've laid,_

_Right to the quick of my brain._


End file.
